Tag Archives: workout

High: Pure Being


The blood stops short trapped before a hair tie, until I release the bun of tension:  post exercise of body-induced drama.  This is the captivating magic of night.


The mind works itself into heavy persuasion.  The body labors with intense urging.  The heart never questions what the goals are or what state of peak condition or overwhelmed fatness I stand in.  A sober thought I do entertain is how someone can not understand the significance of body awareness and its dynamism.

I have a passionate addiction to adrenaline and to the exclusive kick of the way my muscles drum within its act of compulsion.  The heart skips, skips and skips uninhibited.  It beats obsessively and storms out my mouth like an aggressive bird.  It ignites the fight and frenzy over the psyche and tissue land of freedom.

I’ve failed many times and am more successful because of every stoppage.  And now every weakness is formed into substantial strength and what strength has already been established has now constructed itself into marble and stone.

The focus is better determined than years previous.  The focus is better established than the last set and the mind-muscle connection tastes stronger than the last seething rep.  I’ve been sucked into a craving that’s unaware of its bounds.  I throw my fists into the air to battle and enter new coordination and balance ground.

My chest hovers over the floor, shoulders and triceps contract, hum and weep pushing up 200lbs plus over and over again.  The brace of my abdominals is my body’s endless support and savior.  Now there’s a surge spreading like a wild forest fire burning each of my hamstring fibers and into every angle and groove of my glutes with a various amount of hip thrust and single-leg pelvic bridges I can muster under time and tension.  The inner thigh screams by its own distress signals and fleshly vulnerability.  The burn degrees increase and I pull my center deeply to the spine to further the accuracy of the focal point along with the present.

I grimace in pain and drill my teeth into my own mouth.  I start to elevate and disappear like smoke.  I’m high now and there’s an exit.  I’m high and there are no thoughts struggling its way to birth other thoughts.  I’m high and suddenly there are no problems in the world.  There is no suffering.  There is only bliss and light.  There is only presence and heaven.  There is only the state of pure being.



One Of Those Nights

(Written 2 days ago)

I don’t know what it was tonight. 

I don’t know if it was due to all the crashes I was experiencing today?  Or the pizza I decided to order earlier? (Yes, I’ve been slacking on nutrition.  Yes it happens!  Yes, I need more practice then the 8 months on and 5 months off kind of thing throughout the year.)  I don’t know if it was the carbs that zapped me dry at the end?  I don’t know anything!  All I knew is I was dragging the entire day to get in a workout.  I knew it was going to be cardio and legs.  But it was just so hard to start it today.  This is rare for me… even though I decide to slack on nutrition..I never slack off on any training session…  It’s just too fucking fun for me!  The rush..the blood…the focus..the zone!

And though mentally I didn’t have the heart to go full force…  even after I tried to build some extra inspiration & motivation…by reading other people’s blogs, their videos, searching through better insight about nutrition and the whole shebang…  Nothing was doing it for me!  But I know myself.  If I don’t have a good or better yet… a fascinating and crucial reason as to why I should skip a workout….I won’t!…even when I’m hurting and in need of rest… So this part is easy for me anyhows..the fun…enjoyment…yet.. I’ve worked out in worse conditions…that… a little drag.. a little less heart ain’t shit to me.  Just a measly eye roll.  Hah! 

So..the next and best tool in anybody’s pocket is mental toughness..another way of saying relying on yourself.

What edge me on?   M-E!  Just looking at myself in the mirror and finding the grind determination grimace was just the start of it…  Feeling like a warrior.. I dove into the mind-body muscle connection and made every single rep count as if… each inhale/exhale contained my final life and I had to get through it in order to survive the funk…the funk of the drag.  I made sure to gaze at the muscles lengthening and contracting.  To feel and watch where my current and future gains and striations will be. 

I love the feel of the pump, the hot blood swirling underneath my hot and flushed skin.  I love the feel of cold steel tickling, scraping and peeling off my calluses and creating new ones.  I love that every single rep was another hassle telling me to “give up”..but I didn’t.  I stood in the game… with my game face on….with an imaginary audience cheering me on!..  I forge my way, I fought the current and carried myself through the waves.  The next thing I know everything was coming and working together..and the rest became history.  One I’m learning to create over and over and over again!

I think about those silly statements or mantras I can come up with on the spot from songs, celebrities, Wrestling superstars, me, network friends and whatnot:  “There ain’t no stopping me now!”  “Courage today.  Victory tomorrow.”  “Be all you can be.”  “Getting faster, bigger and stronger!”  “You can hate me now, But I won’t stop now!”

On the night of dragging..I thought I could have added new exercises and be extra excited…but..it didn’t work…. I decided to work out at home this time around.  E-Z Curl Bar, plates and mental toughness all on the menu….   My body had no idea what was coming…  I played all secretive and shit.. jotting down the exercises I researched tonight:  E-Z Curl Bar Weighted Glute Bridge, Front Squats (bar supported by my deltoids), Curling Bar Hack Squats (bar behind you), Walking Lunges, some Dynamic Lunges, a few reps of Back Squats and Stiff Legged Deadlifts.  I warmed up first with jumping jacks, etc.  I did 5 sets of 10 on everything.  I started with the weighted glute bridge first.  Then I kept it where I picked 2 exercises to be in superset mode (Hack Squat/SLDeads).  Then Front/Back Squats.  Then Dynamic lunges followed by consecutive 100 reps of walking lunges.

Yes, I was exhausted! 

Something quite glorious has happened, last week also..I’ve leveled up into a new level of soreness, pump and contraction in my glute area.  The (only) best way to describe it is:  Highly Concentrated (Soreness).  As I sit now writing this, my glutes ON fire..as if somehow I lit them up with matches after pouring alcohol!  This may be how a dog feels like when he’s rubbing his butthole across the floor when it itches.  In the words… of an old classic game NBA JAM:  SHE’S ON FIREEEE!!  Sure am!  As of right now it feels uncomfortable to sit on my ass.  It’s annoying, abusive…yet completely fucking amazing I tell ya!

Go out and LOVE your DAMN self!


White Castle is my favorite fast food.  Many, consider them “murder burgers.”  For me this is the last meal I want if my life ended tomorrow.  😉



Plays an important part in the Fit Life.

This includes all types of training, whether a swimmer, a marathon runner or weight-lifter. Instincts come in handy for every aspect of anybody’s life, but this is for a different post folks!  There have been uh many of times when my body, my mind and my spirit were telling me to slow the fuck down when it comes to the brink of overtraining or pushing against the injury rate I’ve already assembled.

And did I listen to most of those signals even when they were clear as a hard penis to my face?  No!  And did I slow down my ego when I knew that I would get caught in a nerve pinch performing a Rear Delt exercise?  No!  And when I fucked up my elbow, with pain shooting up the underside of my forearm, did I stop training?  NOPE!  My instincts were telling me I needed to lay off my arm for months.  Eventually I had no choice but to give my arms a rest for 4-6 months.  What discouragement!

A setback during this time was a complete understatement.

Many days, many months, I’ve trained through injury, believing if athletes were doing it and my favorite bodybuilder role-model was doing it, well, it was okay for me to do it too.  Nope!  Uh-uh!  What kind of thinking was this?  The idiot kind probably?  I don’t own conditioning and rehabilitate coaches like the superstar million dollars of the world.  No one pays me to be on the television or to be on billboards.  I’m not on a cover of a magazine or bending over backwards in order to continue to keep my sponsors.

I had to admit to myself:  I’m not an athlete!  But I play one in my head.

A new instinct tells me…

I no longer need to perform endless sets to get to the definition I desire or the pump I live for.  For I have reach one of the ultimate levels that anyone with a Fit Life would hope, wish and desire to obtain.  I’ am officially official with the great mind/body connection I’ve been striving and focusing on for years.  I’m officially official with going mind deep into my fibers.  And boy how hard they contract!  Hours later, days later, the intense tightness feeling, the ball of dense muscle comes to fulfill my being with how much they work together, compact.  I can make any light weight feel heavy and this is without trying and without intensity.

And only someone true to how I’ am with this Lifestyle understands my happiness.  Oh the roads we go down.  Negative to Positive.


Why Can’t I Have Less Standards?

Why couldn’t I just be thrilled looking like a line-backer like most of the females in my family?  Why couldn’t I just be proud, surely, that I have thick arms from the genetics of the Latin pool?  Why couldn’t I just leave my Training passion behind me and say “I’m fine with not being the locomotive determine strong woman I am clearly out to be?”  Why do I have to have standards?  Why can’t I just be okay with being the staggering 210lbs I was long ago?  Why?

There are times when I’m down and out about the way I look.  I know I’m not grotesque, but I have these ideals I desire to obtain.  There are far too many trials and errors that knocked me down throughout the years and each day these trials and errors shave a centimeter of my will and grace.   I heard someone the other day say:  “Is there a such thing as a bodybuilder being humble?”  All I could think of was – why should they be humble? – when after years of achieving perfection YOU are the person who’s putting all the work and effort day in and day out in the gym looking to display the ideal to yourself?

I’m aware around the time of my menstrual cycle I tend to have sour thoughts and bittersweet feelings.  It’s almost as if being friendly and gentle to myself is some ridiculous crime I should never ever allow otherwise I would fail at my project, my mission.   So I abuse myself physically by training harder than the average person in and out the gym.  And with all this said, the question still reminds at the top, where the title begins:  Why Can’t I Have Less Standards?